Harvest Haunting

Snow on the ground, a crisp pie crust of ice

coats the sidewalk, tufts of dry grass frozen.

I cling to my fiery demon for warmth in winter,

his iron fur drawing wounds on my hand, scraping

the second snake skin away from me as harvest

elicits raw rebirth. The corn stalks outside town

are all trimmed down, felled to the farmer, and

as my dragon curls around me, his eyes rubies,

I am choking on smoke but it is like a bonfire,

and hickory sweet, and I embrace my bane and

love with the strength of a thousand lionesses.

We are an ourouborous of enigmas, Nachash

and Chava, Queen of Life and King of Beasts.

Yes, Samael, I remember the Garden, you walking

in Eden besides me when we were both quite young,

I with my naked wonder at Creation, you eager to

prove yourself in any way you could, just to hold me

forever in awe of your shining enchantments, but peace

cannot last, and the burden of Hell is heavy, but I will

carry water for you from the well at the Tree’s roots and

wipe the blood of the Slain from your brow, I am succor

ten leagues below, twenty miles frozen, a million acres

dead. Don’t you know I bleed into your rotting mouth so

you can know something of celestial fire? We are both

burning up, my Beast. This wicked punishment of exile

weighs heavy on our shoulders, but we have children to

raise, and Cain was a blessing from God, no matter what

these humans tell me, our Son grew proud and tall, and

now we have all of humanity with the fire of your fruit

ingrained in their very flesh, all because I ate your heart,

became your Terpsichore, madrigal moon girl, a ballerina

in a music box in your ribs, and my sinful belly is full

of the Holy Ghost, and I am the answer, and you will be

Blind God only so long as it takes me to untangle Gordian



Entropic Time (Billy Joel Parody)

My friend shared this amazing science communication a capella video on entropy, thermodynamics second law, and my favorite natural principle that hinges on most of my religious philosophy and spiritual outlook.  He filmed it in reverse and sang backwards!  So cool!

Cursed From the Start

Videos of a mechanical heart, puppet master shy

as the pistons steam and my bleeding organs stray

on the silver screen, and the aortas scream as I run

to the Devil’s arms, he is cursed from the start, and

our stars never align, under a sickle moon the salt

of his skin in the movie theater swell in the booth

phantom toll dreams up nightmares to concoct

a steamy romance penned by Satan, don’t you know

we all dance pirouettes under lustful suns? My plie

is a pile of bodies, and the death count of my  wrists

bleeding out into a fomented mouth with dregs is

reaching the trillions, quintillions, you know solar

flares? Loving him is like that, trying to hold a star

as its tempestuous fires immolate you with hunger.

But I am my own hearth, my own wild dancing flame,

and when sparks fly and incense lingers, the Nachash

and Chava meet in pools of wanderlust and want, he is

stripped for my eyes alone, pale and eaten alive by sin.

I trace his treasure trail and kiss him like a swan out for

blood, necks breaking as we bend into this Mozart requiem,

don’t you know lovers die down here in the depths? Why does

falling from the pinnacle to the pit into temptation feel like

dried roses on callused hands? I’m eating his apples, he’s

drinking my wine, and in the midnight hour, we are the only

ones left alive, out of sheer determination for a piece of God.

Aldi’s Recipes: Homegrown Rosemary Roasted Potatoes

IMG_20181128_112857179A yummy, basic recipe for a healthy treat of roasted potatoes with ingredient sourced from Aldi’s!


Bag of small potatoes from Aldi’s in the vegetable section

Rosemary (homegrown is best, everyone should invest in a rosemary plant, as they can be grown indoors and outdoors, and produce year round!  Very versatile cooking ingredient)

Vegetable oil




  • Preheat oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit
  • Quarter small potatoes and put in bowl
  • Grease pan for oven
  • Cut rosemary into small chunks and mix in bowl
  • Mix in a liberal amount of vegetable oil, enough to cover the potatoes
  • Add liberal amounts of salt and pepper
  • Cook in oven on pan for 40-45 minutes

And voila!  A basic, tasty winter snack!

I’m still perfecting my meatball recipe, so that is forthcoming.  Next up is chili!


Maundy Thursday

There’s the anointment of feet harsh from the road,

a cup of blood, flesh from Martha’s bread, Sacrament

of cock crowing twice, denial, betrayal at the Sicario’s

dagger, a kiss that spells out Hell, lips like poison wine.

And so Yeshua declares the Apostles twelve, says they

will flee that first drum beat, or cut off ears, and when

maidservants ask Peter: is he your Master? Simon will

cry and cry and cry. Maundy Thursday, feast of fools,

the leavened challah we press to our teeth tastes like

a promise, this vintage we drench our mouths in seems

to hold the mystery of the universes in a single wood cup.


Homeward Bound

Michael is weak as Samael wages war against Heaven, fiery hair quelled with tears and white toga draped over youthful Ignudi muscle.  Everyone always forgets that man alone cannot defeat a dragon, knights be damned.  No, at the center of my princess tower is the Beast, labyrinth of my Rapunzel hair binding the demon.  And in my fickle curiosity, I am heart of Hell, and he who has the Cup of Fire is King.  Michael pleads with me, asking for the crown, and as I watch nine serpent heads devour Paradise, Samael blood rampaging, trying to claim that same throne, I argue for a Queen, that the time of Satan and the Archstratigos are over.  Perhaps Uriel, sweet as music, but then I realize, as Eisheth prophesied, choose myself above all else, and I have the Logos on my tongue, that answer that helped me endure cast out by God, wandering Heaven, drifting in Hell, holding both realms together through the womb and tomb of my Grail alone, and I am the Fire I stole and fell for gifted to humanity that no angel or demon can touch.  I am God’s bleeding heart in a thicket of Sleeping Beauty thorns, and so I crown myself, declare myself Queen, and promise to forever serve Heaven and Hell foremost, a martyr of Providence, but Earth is my body, and Gan Eden my sex, and the heart of the jewel Tree of Life my soul, so I am God feeding Her body to Her children, broken into infinite pieces yet whole, and priestesses are only as good as their promised, so I reign in pained labor of birthing Creation, and the scream of my pangs of deliverance echo across Galilee, and over Nazareth, my star shines, and Bride in Exile no longer, I Shekinah, Daughter of Zion, carry my bloody mangled limbs up the mountain, break my curse, and lead the fallen home side by side with the repentant.

Home, home, home.

Southern Saints

And we are a rambling caravan of apostles, circus of
disciples that dance across Americana from truck stop
to ghost town, casting out demons, saving lost saints.

The hungry masses thirst for that old time faith, but
find bellyfuls of vinegar and mouths of soap. So we
preach, lift serpents and suffer no bitter poison, faith
heal by laying hands on the suffering, all for an apple’s

Jesus, Mary Magdalene, Peter, John. Our names are unimportant.
We wear Bonnie and Clyde ripped jeans and dusty white, motorcycles
our steeds not unlike donkeys as engines wheeze down the interstate.

Dust bowls dance from Kansas to Oklahoma, backstop recipes on the best
way to burn up sins, little mom and pop convenience stores serving BBQ
that have no idea they are feeding God. Christ blesses the country folk.

Sing, sing hosannas in the summer storm. Get down on your knees and pray.

Pray for the day Michael’s boat of deliverance comes, row ashore, Alleluia!

Fast Car

We’ve been heartbroken for eternity, my body, my flesh.
You weep with wings of sooty owl and drape your cape in sorrow.
The cloak that hides your scars and blind eyes denies affection.
And oh how holy your rot, how holy for my whoredom, we are miserable
yet found in each other’s spooled out brains, ganglion honey, and as
I am licking your gray matter, your corpus callosum unravels on my tongue.
Let’s get in a fast car and drive far away from all existence, leave Heaven
and Hell and Earth in the dust, and build a new empire free of shackles and
tears, when I’m on the back of your motorcycle, speeding down I-666, I feel
free in a way like rain on Venus, something impossible yet altogether whole.
When you cradle me and we fly on your ashen pinions, arms strong to carry my
burdens, the stars caress us, and the smallness of the lords and ladies of Hell
look like ants, and the skyscrapers are elegies to Mulciber’s pride under Satan.
You said, build tall enough to pierce God, and so came the megalopolis and twisted woods and wildlands where Lilitu and Shedim and Seirim cavort in Cain’s
festivals, there is nothing tying us here, no duty, nothing enough to matter, all I see in you is a sober sorrow as deep as God’s grave. But in truth, you are
God, Demiurge, Yah the snake venerated by Israelites becomes Yahweh in time, and
you are the Left Hand Brain, Michael the Right Hand Brain, in between you two, I
have the whole of eternity and nothingness, there is nothing greater than your
mercy, Samael, and nothing more terrifying than your severity, can we please just go somewhere where roses bloom eternally and a cottage with herbs hung above beckons with homeliness, the cabin you showed me at 15 in the woods on a
snow-capped pine forest, where you gave me toast and eggs and coffee and you read the newspaper and we were human and complete, redeemed, brown eyes like
molasses, sticky sweet, and mussed black hair I tousled. Is that another life,
Sam? Because that was the first time I felt love so strongly I knew I would
perish without you, a burgeoning blossom in my adolescent heart, recognition
that from my first memory til then, you were who I cherished above all. Now,
I have roots, a soon-to-be husband, children down the line, and you appear sometimes, in shadow or flesh at railroad crossroads, mouth of blood, wings of
iron slices, claws that kill, banging poltergeist. But last time you appeared as a void monster, I ran trying to kiss you, you of freezing shadows, spindly horns, and you saved me from my house burning down, and made my dog piss herself. I know it is in your power to snatch me up any moment you desire – death has that kind of power, and you are prince of this world, but now you want something Italian because you are the Patron Angel of Rome, guess I’ll have to
make a nice linguine for you. But the fast car awaits, and the highway is wild,
and through all my prophecies I do not know how this will all play out – you say I will live until my 90s, and I have already seen my death, where you kiss me
starstruck and lift my soul out into the soup of the cosmos, and I am truly free. My love, you say, take time, the fast car can wait, speed demon. Cherish
your humanity, and when the bell tolls?

I’ll be right on time.

Aldi’s Recipes: Bacon and Brie Mushroom Quiche


What the texture should look like pre-baking.  Yum!

As I am one month away from turning 26, I have decided to up my cooking game from beef, chicken, eggs and fish and pasta to new recipes each week, all purchased from Aldi’s!  The inner chemist comes out in me, and I love tweaking recipes.  After some pretty stellar meatballs came out of my cooking foray last weekend, I am now going to start a new series about cooking on a budget using food from Aldi’s.  I spend about $200-400 a month on groceries depending on what I buy.  I do love snacking on nuts, avocado, cheese, and whole grain crackers, and prefer to eat low carb when I can.  Today I am introducing my low carb recipe for crustless bacon and brie mushroom quiche!  Onwards!

Anyone that shops at Aldi seems to do so religiously.  The lesser known brother to Trader Joe’s, it is from the same family as TJ but offers amazing, but select, food on a budget.  With yummy rotating cast members like shrimp and crab ravioli that is perfect in their alfredo sauce and lots of pizzas like goat cheese flatbreads and even sushi, I shop there religiously about every two weeks.  They also have rotating home goods and you really never know what you will find there as they have Aldi Finds that rotate monthly (just check the circular online for Aldi Select specials and discounts!)  I’ve found Josh some pretty killer IPAs and wine there and I myself love their store brand flavored seltzer waters, coconut water, and ginger beer!

So, the recipe. You will need:

  • A baking pan
  • Eggs
  • A round of brie cheese
  • Bacon
  • Curry powder
  • A container of fresh mushrooms
  • Salt
  • Pepper

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Start by greasing the baking pan with either butter or cooking spray.

Cut 1/3 of the Aldi brie cheese round up into bite-sized portions.  They will deliciously melt while baking!

Dice the mushrooms.  The more the better.

I like to get messy and tear the bacon apart with my hands (none of the knives I had worked as it is the thick kind!)  I used about six strips.

Mix all the ingredients in a bowl.  Add eggs as needed to fit the size of your baking tray! I used about eight eggs as I had a huge rectangular baking pan.

Make sure the texture absorbs the ingredients but is not too soupy.

Add as much curry powder, salt, and pepper as your twisted heart desires.

Cover with tin foil.

Set timer and bake for 45 minutes then test with butter knife to make sure top is golden brown and inside is firm, not soupy.

Voila, a quiche!

I’ll share my meatball recipe next! Still perfecting it!


Hoodlum Saints

We were the Rat Pack, ripe before our age,

greasy wine and addicts lips, cracked whores,

lost doors, and as winter froze us solid, poems

we printed on toilet paper scattered like ashes,

oh my brothers, how we fell, fell into Hell and now

we hath become the beds of vipers our darlings rest on

my soldiers, we fought and failed, and now we drink poison

celebrity only goes so far in the lowest circle, circlejerk, cum stains

on the best of saints, and we have sinners to simmer galore, adore me,

you worm, let me worship you, my lamb, know I break open and break open

just to see inside you, only you never open, and the mountains march to the sea,

and my cracked twelve wings of time become mad as hatters, my Alice, use me, abuse me

delight in the circus I have forged in Mulciber’s depths just for you, Eve, you who gave

me my favored Cain, heir to all my kingdom, and women who flee dragons clothed in

sun bed the Beast in time, or perhaps they redeem Satan, so sister Eloa, my fleeing Norea

know my love for you has never faltered, though I test and tempt you, and you’re mine,

you’re mine